


Tangled Up and Wide Awake

by WitchStuff



Category: My Mad Fat Diary
Genre: F/M, series one, sexy party
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-26
Updated: 2015-07-26
Packaged: 2018-04-11 09:11:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,445
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4429643
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WitchStuff/pseuds/WitchStuff
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Chop kissed Izzy at the sexy party, and now everything is tangled up and confusing.<br/>A Chop/Izzy, series 1, sexy party story (with a bit of Rae/Finn thrown in there).</p>
            </blockquote>





	Tangled Up and Wide Awake

**Author's Note:**

> It had been brought to my attention (too damn late… ☺️) that in the show, Chop is actually sleeping downstairs and not in Rae’s room like I thought all this time. Since that fact kinda kills half the fic… let’s just call this a “Chop didn’t go downstairs” AU, and just… keep it between us, okay people?
> 
> Thank you SO MUCH, @madfatty, for the beta and the amazing notes

“Well, great,” Chloe says. “You two kiss each other, then, and everyone else can just chill out.”

Bloody Chloe! She’d just single-handedly ended the game with that stupid suggestion. Just ‘cause she’s over it, don’t mean other people aren’t playin’!

So that’s what this fuckin’ night has come to? Everyone got to kiss someone, pair off and disappear to dark corners, except him, only the bloke responsible for all this excellent sexy entertainment! Is that fair? No. Do any of them know how to throw an ace party like this on a moment’s notice like him? Fuck no. So how come he gets nothing? Not being funny, but a house full of fit birds, there for the taking, and he ends up kissing Izzy? Chop wants a proper kiss, with proper groping potential, and maybe a little trip to find an unoccupied room. Hell, a cupboard would do. The plan was to find someone who was up for it, someone he could slip his tongue into her face and really go for it. He can’t do any of that with bloody Izzy, now, can he?

He doesn’t mind voicing his disapproval either. In fact, he makes a point of it whenever someone says anything about the two of them. Yeah, people like to take the piss out of them, because she’s always hanging about, and they’re always kinda sitting together and shit. But he can’t go around to every twat in Stamford, announcing “Izzy and me are not together, all right? She’s practically my sister for fuck’s sake, so why don’t you shut your face before I shove me fist down your gob?”, now can he? No. Anyway, he did that once and they only took it as a sign that he is, in fact, slipping her one.

So now he only says shit like “What?! Izzy? Jesus!” That’s what he tells Chloe, and he thinks he’s very convincing (well, it’s the bloody truth, right?), but then he notices that Izzy herself isn’t protesting the idea of them kissing.

Guess she doesn’t mind. Well, fuck it, he thinks with a shrug. If she doesn’t mind then he sure won’t say no to snogging a pretty girl. Even if it’s only Iz.

It gets weird for a second when he reaches her, because he only has a brief moment to figure out where to put his hands and to push aside the foreboding feeling that there is something way off about all of this.

Their eyes meet for a split second and he suddenly thinks this is a mistake, but it’s too late because he’s already got his arm around her waist, and his lips latch on to hers like heat-guided missiles. Chop thinks he better do a quick drive by, an in-and-out sort of deal, so’s to not let the poor girl know he’s changed his mind. The last thing he wants is to upset Iz, she don’t deserve that and it’s not her fault he’s dead confused also Holy fuck! He’s kissing her, really fuckin’ kissed her! That is no drive-by, you idiot, that is a full-on proper snog and what’s more, she’s kissing him back and she’s put her hand on him and what’s more it’s so crazy his lips can’t stop moving, he can’t make it stop, bloody jumping-Jesus-on-a-unicorn, he may never stop -

“Ewww! It’s like kissing a corpse!” she laughs, as she takes her lips away. Chop feel the words in his gut, and he’s feeling other things in his lower regions as well, and he wipes her taste off his lips and takes himself to the bathroom to catch his breath and fix himself. Over Izzy! Izzy, for fuck’s sake!

Little Izzy, he thinks as he washes his face. She’s practically a kid, is our Izzy.

Except he’s very aware suddenly that she’s not a kid. Very aware that she is A Girl. That she’s got a tiny little body and a red-mouthed smile and soft hair, and she’s all pinks and oranges and other sunsetty colors and that he can still feel her tongue touching his hesitantly, then not so hesitantly… Oh, god, here he goes again.

Stop it, she’s Izzy! He shakes his head. She’s only his Izzy. She’s a laugh! One of the lads! She follows them around and frowns at him when he’s rude or makes jokes she thinks are not nice or when he talks about girls an’ that… and she does always sit next to him but he likes that, nothing wrong with that. They have fun. He tells her stories and she smacks him upside the head, and he tries to make the stories as outrageous as possible because Izzy gets redder and redder and she’s dead cute when she’s pissed at him… and sometimes, well it’s only natural that he’ll tell her real stuff as well, some private things, stuff about home, or how he’s worried about everyone going to college and forgetting they ever knew him, and she puts her hand on his shoulder, she does that a lot, and she makes him feel better somehow, just by being Izzy. Everyone’s got stuff going on, but Izzy always has time to listen to him.

So thinking about kissing her, about what it was like kissing her, about when could he kiss her again prove to her he’s a good kisser (he is! Ask any girl!) is not on. It’s just sick. He needs to stop, needs to go back to normal. He stands there, and points a finger at his reflection. “You get back in the party mood right now.” He tells himself sternly. Blue eyes stare back at him unconvinced.

Sighing, he goes back to the living room, mind made up not to worry about the whole Izzy situation any more. Because there weren’t an “Izzy Situation”. That’s just dumb. He searches the room for another girl, any girl available for chatting up, but the party has wound down and there aren’t that many people about. Also, it seems that without taking orders from his brain, his eyes look for, and zoom in on, the only redhead girl in the place the second he enters. Bloody hell.

Izzy and Chloe are dancing around the living room, singing “2 Become 1” to each other. This is something they can never do when the others are about. He half expected Archie or Finn or Rae to come bursting in from wherever, demanding that they stop this atrocity; put some “Them-Approved music” on. But none of them do, and the girls continue to slur their way through the Spice Girls, while twirling about with a length of fairy-lights wire, still connected to the electricity somewhere, still flickering on and off. That’s dangerous, he thinks. Someone should take that away from them, someone should tell them to be careful with that. But not him, ‘cause she’s not his responsibility. They’re not his responsibility. He makes himself look away, continue the search for someone to help him put his head back together the right way round.

There’s a girl, he’s not sure what her name is, pretty sure she’s, erm, Anna’s friend, yeah, and she’s sitting all alone, all bored looking. She’s not much to look at but a man’s got to do what a man’s got to do and that. He hurries to the drinks table to look for an unopened beer bottle, something he could offer her to start up a conversation. Fuckin’ people, leaving half empty bottles and cups everywhere.

The girls are singing “Who Do You Think You Are?”. Fuck, did someone actually put an entire Spice Girls CD on shuffle? In Rae’s house? Wonder the walls don’t topple down with the wrath of the gods of rock. Chloe’s stumbling and laughing, and Izzy hides her mouth with her hand and giggles and sniggers as if this is the funniest fuckin’ thing she’s ever seen. She’s drunker than usual. Chloe’s face falls suddenly, and she fights ungracefully to untangle her arms from the wire and runs towards the loo. Izzy doesn’t care, she continues spinning and singing. Funny how everybody gets drunk in a different way. Like, what makes some people surly and mopey, or loud and obnoxious when they’re bladdered, makes Izzy all silly and cute. “Fuck,” he thinks frantically, “there’s got to be some untouched booze around here somewhere!”

Eventually he just pours some beer from one half full cup to another half full cup, and makes his way across the living room to sit on the arm of the couch next to Anna’s friend, Whatshername.

“All right, lovely?” Chop turns on the charm. “Fancy a drink?”

She looks up at him with bored eyes. “Yeah, why not.” She grumbles and takes the offered cup, looking inside. “This is warm.”

“Name’s Chop, love. I’m the manager of this party. Organized it in two hours.”

“No kidding.” she hums, and sniffs at the beer, still not taking a sip.

“Tha’s right. I’m the only bloke ya need to know in Stamford, if you’re interested in the hottest parties.” She put the beer down on the floor by her feet. “So what’s your name?”

The tiny colorful lights in her hair only make her look even more like a proper little fairy girl, flitting from flower to flower. Only thing missing are her yellow wings.

“Hello? Are you listening?”

“Oh, yeah. Yeah, love!”

“Then what’s my name?”

“Jinna, right?”

“Jinny.”

“Lovely name for a lovely girl.” He gives her the full-on Chop smile then, all blue eyes and teeth. She can’t help herself it seems, and smiled a little back. Here we go, tha’s more bloody like it.

Next time he looks back, Izzy has stumbled onto the lap of some no-one sitting on the long sofa with three other boys Chop can’t place just now. Friends of Anna, maybe?

“Hi” Izzy tells the surprised boy, who’s just gotten one hundred pounds of redheaded fairy girl in his lap, all wrapped up in a bow.

“Hi” he grins at her. The fucker.

“Who’re you?” She asks, absolutely wriggling in the stranger’s lap to get more comfy.

“…Ned. And who are you?”

“Izzy, you’re drunk.” Chop is shocked to hear this coming, loud and only a tiny bit hysterical, from his own throat. “Time to call it a night, yeah?”

She doesn’t respond, doesn’t even look up at him. She strokes Wanker Ned’s face with the end of the wire in her hand. “Teddy,” she tells him, “you like me, don’t you Teddy?”

“It’s ahh… it’s Ned.”

“You like me, Neddy, right?”

“Oh, sure!”

“Like, you wouldn’t mind kissing me, would you Neddy?“

Chop is on his feet. “Okay, you lot, party’s over. Everybody take your shit and fuck off outta here.”

People look at him, wide eyed and surprised.

“I’m not kidding, you bunch of wankers. If you don’t belong here, get out.”

“Who the fuck are you to tell us to leave?” someone pipes up from a corner.

“If you don’t know who I am, then you deffo don’t belong here, dickhead. Let’s go, clear the fuck out!”

As grumbling party guests start to unfold themselves and get ready to leave, Chop pulls on Izzy’s arm. “Come on, Iz, time to go.”

“Leave her alone.” Says Fucker Ned with a shit eating grin. “She likes it here.”

“Yeah, I like Teddy!” Izzy mumbles, taking her arm away and putting it around the smug bastard’s neck.

“Teddy is going home and you’re going upstairs to sleep this the fuck off.” Chop attempts to pry them apart.

“You can’t tell me what to do,” she slurs, but her hold starts to give. “Teddy wants to kiss me and he thinks we should kiss a-and… and - “ She allows Chop to pull her up and sorta collapses against him. “And… with tongues!”

“Fuck’s sake, Izzy.”

“Wha’ you even care, you… meanie.”

He doesn’t know. He doesn’t know why he cares. He never cared before. Well, not like this. Well… Fuck.

The boy on the sofa makes a half-hearted attempt to re-claim Izzy, which only causes Chop to turn to him and the rest of the people in the room and yell. “You lot still here? What did I say? I said to fuck the fuck off home!” he makes shooing motions while still holding Iz up with his left arm. “Go on, go home!”

As the room slowly emptied, he notices Izzy’s pressed herself against him, arms around his neck just like she’s done with Sofa Boy a couple minutes before, and she’s moving slowly to some song he doesn’t recognize. “I’m dancing with ya, Chop.” she tells him softly.

He freezes, no idea what to do with that. Could-Be-Anna’s-Friend walks passed him and gives him a hateful look. He s’poses he’s not been very nice to her. His mate Frankie slaps his shoulder as a goodbye on his way to the door, and Chop’s still standing there, with Izzy slightly swaying in his arms.

“D’you remember when you were sad tha’ time and we went to the field with the, erm, place, an’ we saw that butterfly and you shaid it was like my - like me and if I were a fairy, that my wings would… that that’s what my wings would… look like? Remember that?”

“No. We have to take you upstairs.”

“Why.”

“You’re drunk.”

“Why.”

“Jesus, I don’t know why, Iz. Everyone’s gone and the party is over. Now, will you be a good girl and let me take you upstairs?”

Her head lolls back up and she looks at him. “Why?”

Jesus Christ. What is happening?

“To sleep, Izzy, to sleep it off!”

A disappointed look cross her face and her head falls back against his chest. Where his heart is just fucking racin’ for no good reason. He’ll have to take matters into his own hands, otherwise they’ll stand here all night, swaying and talking shit.

So he grabs her and lifts her and carries her upstairs, her head still on his chest and her arms still around his neck. She giggles a little, then giggles some more. “Ha! You didn’t think of that,” she mumbles, and he’s not sure what that’s supposed to mean. But she’s drunk, so who the fuck knows what is going on in her head. He doesn’t know that at the best of times.

He heads to Rae’s mum’s room, planning on putting Iz down on the bed, but Chloe is asleep in there, taking up the entire bloody bed. Typical. He sticks his head into Rae’s room next, and is surprised to find Rae and Finn already in sleeping bags on the bed. When the fuck did that happen? Last he’d heard from them two, they were escaping the cupboard-of-lust with identical miserable faces.

“Hey,” Rae calls out to him in a low voice. “What’s going on downstairs?”

“Sent everyone home except who we told could stay.”

“Did you lock up?”

“No, I had to get Izzy to a bed. She’s real drunk. I’ll do it in a mo.”

“You can settle here, I’ll get you some blankets.” She gets out of her sleeping bag and Chop sits Izzy down on a bean bag. The wire is still tangles up around her, thankfully not flickering now that it’s out of the socket.

Rae hands him some blankets and goes downstairs to lock up. Finn seems to be asleep, or maybe just in one of his closed-off moods. Chop has his own problems, so he doesn’t mind letting it go. Let Raemundo take care of it.

“Come on, Iz, here’re some nice blankets for ya, come lie down.”

She shrugs like a child. “Don’t wanna.”

“For fuck’s sake, would you just - Izzy, just go to sleep, so that I can go to sleep -”

She raises huge teasing eyes to him. “Only if you let me decorate ya.”

What. The. Everloving. Fuck.

He huffs a sigh. Just make this end.

“Yeah, okay, whatever.”

She shoots out of the bean bag like lightning.

“Lie down!”

“Izzy.”

“No, wait. Sit up.”

He does. Must be all the booze he’s had tonight, that’s making him feel so weak and helpless. Making his heart race, his thoughts tangle and wrap around themselves in his head. That must be why he’s, lying motionless on Rae’s rug. Izzy removes the wire from herself in slow, long, graceful movements, like a dancer in some posh ballet. He can’t take his eyes off her, her hands twisting the wire away from her body, her breasts under that dress, her big eyes, her mouth puckered in concentration as she gives the process of decorating him her full attention. Then the real torture begins.

She wraps the delicate cord around and around his torso, hands fleetingly touching him every so often, her white smooth neck in the crook of his every time she leaned in and her hair brushing his face every time she pulled back. He just sits there, frozen, taking it all without a word, barely breathing. It takes less than a minute but it messes him up good and proper.

“Just a couple more, I reckon…” She plans out loud, and leans in for another loop, her chest touching his.

He unfreezes and pushes her gently away. "Okay, Iz, that’s it. I’m decorated.”

She leans back on her heels, looks at her handy work with a critical eye, then smiles a huge Izzy smile, bright eyes and dimples. She pushes him down until he’s lying helpless on his back on the rug. She reaches out and moves her fingers in his ruffled fringe.

“Please go to sleep, Izzy. Please.” he whispered.

She shakes her head. “Not done.” Holding the end of the cord in her hands, she looks about until she locates an electrical outlet, and scrambled to it. Before he knows it, he is alight with dozens of tiny colored lights. Izzy claps sloppily and giggled. “Yay! It’s Chop the Christmas tree!”

Rae walks back in from her tour of the house. “Fucking hell, Chop, it’s like squatter’s central round here. Who’re all these fuckers sleeping in my house?” She stops at the sight of them and raises two eyebrows. “Do I want to know?”

“Chop is a lovely, lovely Christmas tree.” Izzy announces. “Oh Christmas tree, oh Christmas tree…” she sings, then pushes him back when he attempts to sit up and salvage some self-respect. “No, lie back down. There. Yes! Like a Christmas corpse!” and she laughs loud enough to wake the dead, not to mention everyone trying to sleep in that room. Finn opens his eyes, looking at Rae in question. She rolls her eyes and climbs back into the bed.

Izzy is off again, dancing about the room, gales of laughter still pouring out, obviously delighted with herself for taking the piss out of him for no particular reason. Thank Christ and all of the saints, she only makes it to Rae’s bed, where she climbs over Rae and Finn’s feet, curls herself like a caterpillar at the foot of the bed and closes her eyes. “Stupid mean boy,” she mumbled softly, “don’t remember I’m a yellow butterfly.” The guys on the bed look at her, then at Chop, then turn to each other to speak in low voices.

“You alright?” Rae asks.

“Sorta. Don’t know.” Finn whispered back. And then, “Feels weird to be here. At a party. But I don’t want to go home yet.“

Chop doesn’t know what’s going on over there, but Rae must do, because she says, “Don’t think of it as a party. Just being with mates, like.“ and it seems to be the right thing to say.

Finn is quiet for a moment, then whispers, “I thought you weren’t having a party.” They continue talking quietly, but Chop’s lost interest. Any other time, he would have gladly lent them an ear to find out exactly what was going on on that bed, but now, thanks to Princess Chloe, he has his own problems, ta very much.

No two ways about this; this is all her fault. Her and her stupid bossiness, she’s the reason he’s lying here, all tangled up and wide awake, staring at the ceiling.

He should really untangle himself, go back down to the living room to find a vacant sofa. He’ll sleep sitting up if he has to. But he doesn’t move.

He’ll get up in a minute. It’ll be okay. He’ll get up and untangle this mess and go downstairs and fall asleep and wake up with a massive hangover. Probably won’t even remember anything about this fucked up night.

Five more minutes.

THE END.


End file.
